


In the Light of My Brother

by Merianon



Series: My Brother [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam's in Heaven though, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Families, Fake Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Lucifer Possessing Nick (Supernatural), Mentioned Other Minor Characters, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, Minor Violence, Post-Season 5, References through to Season 11, season 6 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 10:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merianon/pseuds/Merianon
Summary: As thrilled as Lucifer is about Michael finally thinking for himself, there are some repercussions and opposing others (namely Raphael) that are getting in the way of the two trying to get back to what their family used to be. Good thing Sam has a few ideas.Season 6 AU. Two-Part Sequel to Am I My Brother's Keeper?





	1. Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This is cross-posted from fanfiction.net under the same name. Originally written in Oct-Nov 2016; last edited Feb 2019.
> 
> Enjoy.

_"Most people think that shadows follow, precede or surround beings or objects. The truth is that they also surround words, ideas, desires, deeds, impulses and memories."_

—Elie Wiesel

* * *

Lucifer didn't know when it happened, but he knew that Michael had used his grace to lull Lucifer to sleep. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, and everything that had happened beforehand was _fuzzy_ … He could only feel himself drifting on the edges of consciousness, resting in Michael's arms.

After so _long_ of nonexistent contact with his brother – let alone the love-filled words that Michael washed him over with (not the bitter retorts and accusations from so long ago) – Lucifer was somewhat overwhelmed… Not that he would ever admit that aloud, but it warmed his ice cold grace.

At some point (he wasn't sure when as Michael had been doing a good job keeping Lucifer under), Lucifer was able to pick up a snippet from a conversation that Michael held with another.

"Do _not_ question me, Raphael," Michael said warningly.

"Then why have you not killed him," the other growled. "You're supposed to bring Paradise. Do as Father ordained."

Lucifer could feel Michael's grace flare at the words, his fiery grace burning against Lucifer's own. It made Lucifer shift uncomfortably in Michael's gentle hold. Michael seemed to snap his attention down to Lucifer, forcing himself to calm down and brushing a soothing wave of grace over Lucifer.

" _Sleep, little one…_ "

Lucifer couldn't find it in himself to resist the three worded order – not with the soft blanket draped over his mind, pulling him back to the irresistible, sweet taste of ignorant, blank bliss. He couldn't find it in himself to break this moment of being with Michael without the hate and anger and pain.

As Lucifer fell back into the recesses of his mind, he heard Michael proclaim something that would have made him smirk if he'd had the conscious thought to do so.

"If Father disagrees with what I'm doing, then He can come and tell me Himself."

**o-O-o**

_"What is_ that _supposed to be?"_

_He chuckled at His son's scrutinizing frown. "That, Lucifer, is Earth."_

_"Earth?" Lucifer asked, looking up at Him._

_"Yes, I've got a few plans in the making that will all happen on the planet."_

_Lucifer blinked once, drawing a metaphorical blank. "Planet? That's what You're calling the new sphere things?"_

_"And this star that these planets are revolving around will one day be called the Sun."_

_Lucifer huffed and made a face. "That ball of gas doesn't shine anywhere near as bright as me," he muttered._

_"And nor should it," He mused. "Otherwise the beings I'm going to create to live on Earth would not survive long."_

_"They would… die?" Lucifer asked with a frown._

_"All fall into Death's hold eventually, Lucifer. Even I will_ _someday— you know this."_

_Lucifer grumbled his acknowledgment of the fact, fidgeting in his place while He finished 'touching up' this new creation of His. Lucifer watched silently as He terraformed the continental plates, shifting them away from one another and leaving one (really, it was more like two but they were connected by a small strip of land) separated from several others by vast oceans on either side. Technically, there were other landforms that were separated from the main land that Lucifer could see, but they were closer together to each other than this one that stood out to him._

_Something was going to happen there – Lucifer wasn't sure what made him think that, but…_

_"I love all of my creations_ _— I love_ _you and your brothers and sisters… Don't ever forget that."_

_The Mark on Lucifer's arm burned, and Lucifer strained to ignoring its itching presence. "Of course, Father. Why would I ever doubt such a thing?"_

_He suddenly looked old. He looked tired and weary – something that Lucifer wasn't used to seeing on Him. "You have no idea," He whispered._

**o-O-o**

It took him a moment to even realize that he was lying in a field of grass. The blades of the lush, green plant life felt nothing like the rough patches he had found on Earth, and a breeze swept through the area, rustling the grass before letting the meadow still. It was peaceful, quiet, calm.

The moment he opened his eyes to the blue sky above him, he recognized exactly where he was. But… there wasn't any way that he could be here, he thought as he sat up and took in the scene of trees and bushes and multicolored flowers around him. He must have still been dreaming. He couldn't be in the Garden.

Yet he was… and it was almost unnervingly silent. Glancing up, he was relieved to see that the Sun He had placed in His Garden was still shining, as ever, but he was still at a loss as to how and why he was in the Garden.

A time later, he found himself wandering into the grove of trees nearby. Some of the trees were familiar, some weren't. Some were now extinct on Earth. Some hadn't been discovered yet. Some were seen everyday by the humans…

Humanity… _oh, right_ … He had promised Michael that he would give up the Apocalypse, hadn't he? And that he wouldn't harm a human… unless provoked (couldn't not let that be there).

A huff of air escaped Lucifer's lips as he contemplated all that his promise entailed. It had been a stupid thing to do without thinking it over properly – his consent to the terms drawn out with a lapse in judgment… Then again, was the decision so bad?

He was technically on Michael's side now – or rather, there were no sides to the abandoned Apocalypse anymore. So they were back together then? No, that would have implied a simplicity to the brothers' bond, which was so much more complex and complicated than a human would ever understand. But he supposed that in simple terms, 'back together' was an adequate assessment of their rekindled status.

And to think that part of why Lucifer pushed the Apocalypse was to prove a point. Something that he couldn't really do anymore – but compared to the whole of the reasons, it was kind of insignificant, wasn't it? What would he have gotten from it anyway? Bragging rights? Something to back his pride with?

No, no… The 'Apocalypse' was supposed to bring _Him_ back. That whole 'temper tantrum' – as some had called it – was to get His attention, yes… But Lucifer just wanted to talk (though he imagined there'd probably be a bit of yelling involved) – he wanted an _answer_. And gotten his answer, Lucifer had – just in a very round about way.

So:

Was Lucifer still mad? _Yes._

Did he have a way to express that anger? _Sort of._

But was there any point in staying mad? … _Not really._

So why make a big deal out of it?

He could deny the answer to that question all he wanted to; Lucifer knew that being a brat about this any longer than necessary would just be a pain in the ass for all of them. There just wasn't a reason for him to keep the Apocalypse going – even if Michael hadn't gotten that promise out of him – and that was mainly because Michael wasn't dead set on killing him anymore.

His only issue was with their Father now, and it was rather clear that He wasn't going to come just because Lucifer was throwing a fit. So Lucifer was just going to have to grow up and be _patient_ about this. Lucifer could do that. He'd waited thousands of years in the Cage for the Apocalypse to take place – he could wait another however many years for God to come back…

Then again, even as patient as Lucifer _could_ be, that prospect was a little too time dependent on one being.

That being said, he'd need something to preoccupy him until God did come back. He was more or less stuck in Heaven for the time being as he didn't want to go back to Hell or have to be around humans at the moment (or ever, really). That and Lucifer wasn't blind to notice the metaphorical chain (or leash, if one preferred; one could have also gone with 'link', which was much more neutral in the term usage) _linking_ him to Michael. Lucifer wouldn't be able to physically leave Heaven, not without Michael knowing.

Lucifer suddenly felt very self-conscious about the state of his wings and grace. Though he'd had time to recover, it was an understatement to say that Hell had not been kind. Even then, his grace – _tainted as it had become_ – was far better off than his wings were.

He'd already made sure that no one would be able to see them – his wings – placing them under heavy warding of concealment. All because he had no want for anyone to see the way they were singed and stained with ash and blood; the way feathers had been torn in patches, the pinions broken in some places. The way his wings were not the 'most beautiful in all of Heaven' any longer.

"You're still here," a venomous voice called out from behind him.

Lucifer froze, forcing himself to slowly turn to face the other. "Well, it's not like I had anywhere else to go."

"You don't belong here, _traitor_ ," the other sneered at him.

He couldn't help the stab of hurt that the words brought, especially coming from a 'closer' brother. "Obviously since I'm still here – as you put it – I'm allowed that, Raphael," Lucifer retorted, using the sharp statement as a means to cover up the tearing at his grace.

"Only because somehow you've deluded Michael into thinking that you could ever come home," the third oldest archangel spat, glaring at Lucifer. "And when he finally sees the lies you've woven over his eyes, I'll be the one to hold you down as he pierces his blade through your heart."

Lucifer refrained from taking in a sharp breath, having steeled himself from flinching at the words. It had been Michael's idea to let Lucifer live, hadn't it? Their Father had given the oldest that choice, and Lucifer had gone along with it. Lucifer told Raphael so.

The dark-skinned archangel merely scoffed and shook his head. "You have to die, Lucifer. With your death, Paradise comes."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Lucifer insisted. Why could they not see? Why were they all so set in that _damned_ way of thinking, of only following orders? _Why?_ "We both know Michael won't kill me, and he won't let you kill me either."

"The Host doesn't know that yet."

Lucifer's eyes snapped down to the blade that slid into Raphael's hand. Lucifer knew he had high chances of surviving a minor skirmish, but he wasn't ready for the fight Raphael had in mind. Lucifer didn't have his blade on him, and his grace was still low and sluggish from Michael's earlier tampering. Raphael wasn't the most prominent fighter, but he had been a healer, which made him all the more deadly.

"Don't make me fight you, Raphael," Lucifer warned solemnly.

"So you would kill me as you killed Gabriel?" Raphael snarled back, continuing even as Lucifer stiffened. "Just one more crime to add to your deeds."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I'm sure you didn't mean to do any of it," Raphael spat, taking a step forward, his blade pointed at Lucifer. And Lucifer, in turn, took a step back, keeping the distance between them.

" **RAPHAEL!** "

Michael's voice echoed throughout the Garden, causing the other two archangels to freeze where they stood as their oldest brother stormed into the small clearing of trees that they were located in. Lucifer wasn't sure why, but Michael was still using the half-Winchester's body. It kept Michael's true form from showing even here – Lucifer didn't like it. He would have preferred Michael in his true form, like Lucifer currently was (Raphael was using a vessel, too, Lucifer noted offhandedly).

"What did I say, Raphael?! What did I say?" Michael demanded, eyes blazing in a righteous fury that Lucifer was glad wasn't aimed at him for once. Lucifer was also glad that Michael had come. He was a welcome distraction from _darker_ thoughts.

The youngest of the three merely huffed and stalked off, Michael's eyes boring into his back as Raphael left the Garden. Even then, Lucifer didn't relax until Michael brought him into a caring embrace. Warm, loving grace washed over his own.

"Are you alright?" Michael asked him quietly.

"As well as one can be with my status," Lucifer muttered bitterly, looking intently down at the ground.

Michael shifted his grip, pulling Lucifer back to look in his eyes. "It'll get better, little one. I promise."

Lucifer shook his head. "You can't erase everything that's happened, Michael. They _all_ hate me."

"Not all of them," Michael murmured, hugging his brother once more.

**o-O-o**

"I hope you don't mind."

Sam spun in his chair to face the intruder, gun automatically lifting to aim at the being's chest. " _Lucifer_ _?_ " the Winchester sputtered in shock, his hold on the gun's handle tightening.

"The one and only," the archangel replied with the slightest smirk bringing up a corner of his mouth.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded, cocking the hammer back, loading the gun to fire whenever Sam pulled the trigger.

"Oh, you know… getting away from all _that_ ," Lucifer answered, gesturing upwards. He then tilted his head to the side slightly. "You might as well put the gun away, seeing as this is just a dream and it wouldn't work on me anyways."

Sam shot a glance down at the gun. He was dreaming..? That would explain how he'd suddenly gotten a gun in his previously empty hands, but it didn't give Lucifer an excuse to be invading his dream. He kept the gun up.

"Why are you here?" he questioned, letting anger tinge his tone.

"Come on, Sam. I already answered that one," Lucifer said with a touch of amusement. He'd sat down on the dream replica of Bobby's couch, only a few feet away from where Sam was sitting at the desk, where Sam had thought he'd been pouring over very important research.

Sam frowned, the gun lowering marginally before retraining on Lucifer's chest. "What happened?"

Shifting to lay sideways on the couch, Lucifer pursed his lips, seeming to mull over the question. "You're going to have to be a bit more—"

"Is the Apocalypse still going or not?" Sam rephrased, cutting the archangel off.

During his time being Lucifer's vessel, Sam had been kept aware of everything going on around Lucifer. He knew what Michael had been implying to Lucifer during their showdown, even if Lucifer hadn't really understood what Michael meant at the time. But Sam had recognized the look in Michael's eyes – that determination, the protectiveness, everything Sam saw in Dean when he was in serious-older-brother mode. As much as he (and Dean and maybe even Lucifer) would hate to admit it, the two pairs of brothers were more alike than they would like.

Lucifer gave Sam a bemused look for the interruption but went on to answer, "No, it's over. Crisis averted, I think you would say."

"So then why aren't you… up there?" Sam finished lamely, finally setting the gun down on the desk in front of him. It wasn't like Sam would be able to force Lucifer to leave (not in a dream), and the archangel was now more or less lounging on the couch, looking as comfortable as could be.

"I'm not exactly on friendly terms with the other angels, Sam," Lucifer told him, the barest hint of condescension in his words. There was also a tired weariness that Sam could hear overlaying a sad note hidden with Lucifer's answer. Something told Sam to wait for Lucifer to continue, and after several silent moments, the archangel did, beginning with a sigh.

"Michael's tried to keep me from hearing the rumors, but I'm not an idiot— I know there's been talk of a civil war, and for once I'm not the sole reason for it…" Lucifer trailed off, frowning.

At first Sam thought Lucifer wouldn't go on, and he was about to say something to fill in the aging silence when Lucifer suddenly stood up and started pacing across the room. The archangel was agitated. And that fact was easy enough for Sam to tell by the way Lucifer moved from wall to wall at a steady pace – back and forth, back and forth, never breaking stride even as he began talking again.

"But I _am_ the reason for this stupid power struggle between Michael and Raphael— And all of it's just because Michael doesn't want to kill me! Over half of the Host is siding with Raphael, and the rest won't even look at me. My so called 'loyalists' don't dare show their faces _because_ of their allegiances to me during the Apocalypse…"

Lucifer finally slowed to a stop by the end of his little tirade. Sam found himself taken aback by how Lucifer's shoulders slumped and how the archangel seemed to curl in on himself. It was almost as if someone had cut the strings holding the archangel up.

"I came here because I didn't know where else to go. This visit has nothing to do with you saying yes to me. I just needed— I need to be around someone who understands… that won't look at me like…"

"Like a monster," Sam finished for him.

At Lucifer's small nod, Sam got up from the chair and beckoned for Lucifer to follow him outside. Now that Sam knew he was dreaming, it was easy for him to manipulate the dreamscape, and 'outside' became a park that Dean had taken Sam to when they were still young children. Sam tried to keep all of the small details the way he remembered them, keeping the park different from all of the others they'd seen over the years.

The giant oak tree in the middle of the park was the most obvious of these details, the large branches spanning over a great portion of the playground area and some of the park benches. Foot holds had been worn into the tree over time from all of the kids who had dared climb the massive oak, and there was a tire swing set up, hanging from one of the sturdiest branches. A cross section of branches a little further up the tree had created a platform of sorts for those who went that high – it had been a nest, or home base, of sorts for the kids playing whatever games required it, or just a place to relax and get away from everything.

Sam sat down on a park bench, trying not to mind all that much when Lucifer didn't sit down. The park was empty, but it wasn't the people that had made the place special (as ironic as that may have sounded). This was the park that Sam remembered; however, if Sam were to go back to the park nowadays, it would be different – Sam already knew that the tree wasn't there anymore. It had been cut down to make room for a bigger playset 'for the children'.

Now, as much as Sam did hate to admit it, he understood… not all of it, but he knew what the situation Lucifer was in felt like. Heaven wasn't the same – _home_ had changed. That after so long of being away (with all of the mixed emotions of wanting to stay away and yet the longing to return) it was _different_. And Sam would be a hypocrite to call Lucifer a monster with all that he himself had done.

For the rest of Sam's dream, the two didn't say a word, but when Sam felt that the pull of his consciousness wanting him back in an awake state, he blurted out:

"You can come again… if you want."

Right before Sam woke up, he thought he heard the soft words, "Thank you, Sam."

**o-O-o**

Though he wasn't in a vessel, Lucifer found himself in site of the abandoned hotel. He'd convinced Michael to let him go down to Earth for the slight occasion, and he'd even made sure that there weren't any living beings susceptible to death while in the presence of an angel's true form within the area before settling down.

Lucifer had cleaned the place up a little bit, not that any human would have been able to tell as none would ever come to the building anymore. Though, to call it a building now would have been inaccurate. Because while making the wards to keep it from the notice of humans, he had also made the location a more suitable site for the final resting place of an archangel.

It was now a garden of sorts – nothing close to the divine beauty of the Garden but as close as he could make it on Earth. Surrounded on all sides by trees, the small glade where the hotel used to be was filled with bushes and flowers of brilliant white and all the shades of gold, the grass a vibrant green, silver vines hanging from the limbs of the trees whose long branches reached over the glade.

In the center of the garden, it was upon a beautifully engraved, golden foundation that Gabriel's vessel lay – unmoving in death. Only the vessel, because the angel was gone. If not for the unnatural stillness, one would have assumed he was asleep. But then, his hands had been positioned to be folded over one another, holding his blade and resting on Gabriel's chest (not unlike the kings of men long ago) – another hint that he wasn't merely sleeping.

And it was beside this raised platform that Lucifer stood. He held a blank mask over his face – there were too many emotions fighting for dominance of his features to give way to even one. Even so, guilt, regret was perhaps the one weighing down on him the most.

Lucifer didn't dare touch Gabriel's vessel. He didn't deserve that right anymore, not after betraying the trust of his closest brother next to Michael. Instead, he kneeled, bowing his head.

" _If you'll ever forgive me, I am sorry, brother,_ " he whispered in Enochian, his voice breaking near the end.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Lucifer forced himself to stand and then leave.

**o-O-o**

"Why do you not accept your brother's apology?"

"Oh, I don't know, Dad— maybe because _he killed me_."

"And he truly regrets that decision."

An annoyed huff.

"This may not be exactly what you wanted, but Michael and Lucifer are no longer fighting. Don't tell me you aren't glad for that."

"I never said I wasn't," came the snappish reply.

"Then what's keeping you from accepting my offer of returning?"

There was a long moment of silence before he finally answered in a sad voice, "It just isn't the same anymore."

**o-O-o**

Two months since what was supposed to be the final battle between Michael and Lucifer, three weeks since the first dream visit after the Apocalypse was officially over, ten days since Castiel found that he was once again reconnected with Heaven (apparently the angel had gotten the full range of his angelic powers back and then some) – Sam realized that his visitor had come back (it wasn't hard to figure out, if one went by how the temperature dropped ten degrees), and he wasn't dreaming this time.

"Who was he?" he asked the archangel standing in the doorway. Sam had never actually found out whom the man who had housed Lucifer before Sam said yes was.

"His name was Nick," Lucifer told him with a shrug.

"I thought he was dead," Sam said, frowning. "How did you get permission?"

Another shrug. "Michael pulled a few strings. Nick's soul was in a sort of limbo, so Michael went, got him and put him with his family. I got a free ride."

Sam's curiosity got the better of him. "So it's just you in there? But how are you not burning through him? Cas said there has to be a soul in the vessel to help keep that from happening."

"It's well within my power to properly maintain a vessel, Sam," Lucifer answered with a small, amused smile as he walked further into the room. "It just takes a bit more concern and care on my part, not to mention the grace I'm constantly expending to keep this vessel in _perfect condition_."

Sam nodded, accepting the answer. "So how are you?"

And to think that not a month ago, he wouldn't have even considered asking that question to Lucifer, let alone having a rather civil conversation with the archangel; however, after Sam retold his dream to Dean, Cas and Bobby, Castiel had told Sam that acting as something for Lucifer to ground himself to may benefit humanity in the long run – especially if Sam gave Lucifer enough reasons to not hate humans so much.

Suddenly, Sam was very grateful that Bobby was out on a supply run and that Dean had taken Cas out on a hunt that was looking like it would be a simple salt and burn, leaving Sam to manage Bobby's house. But this also meant that Sam was alone with Lucifer. And yet, Sam felt that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing since Lucifer was coming to _him_ as someone who understood the archangel.

"Michael is as stubborn as ever," Lucifer muttered, sitting down backwards in a spare wooden chair that was off to the side. "He still won't acknowledge that there's a civil war imminent in Heaven around me. He doesn't even let me leave the Garden without me telling him first—"

"He's just trying to keep you safe," Sam interrupted. "He doesn't want you to get hurt because of this war, and so he's keeping you out of it."

"I am not going to sit around waiting for Michael to magically solve the problem," Lucifer ground out.

"And I'm not saying that you should," Sam said in a placating manner, "but you have to realize that he's going to war against Raphael for _you_."

Lucifer gave him a look, narrowing his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam refrained from sighing. "I'm saying that you could compromise with him. Like I said, his priority is _you_ — use that and reason with him. If he and Dean are anything alike, he'll eventually cave."

**o-O-o**

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I was going to ask," Lucifer huffed.

"I already know what you were going to ask," Michael responded, never pausing in his work nor did he look up from said work. The work being garrison arrangements, death reports and what looked like the latest soul counts.

"At least have the decorum to hear me out first," the younger muttered, letting his irritation be known through his tone.

The writing utensil Michael was using slowed to a halt, and Michael sighed and turned to look at Lucifer. "Well then, brother, what is it you would like to ask me?"

_Of all the times to suddenly get cold feet..._ Lucifer made himself calm down – it wasn't like this was going to get him killed. "I want to help," he proclaimed.

Again Michael sighed, glancing up and away before staring straight ahead. "I can't let you do that, Lucifer."

"Why not?" he demanded. "The only reason this civil war is taking place is because of me—"

Michael stood suddenly, moving close to grab Lucifer by the shoulders and effectively cutting Lucifer off. "Lucifer, your being has _nothing_ to do with this war," Michael told him, shaking him slightly. "This mess was a creation of my own arrogance, and I won't have you caught in the middle of it. _That_ is why—"

"Dammit, Michael!" Lucifer exclaimed, brushing off Michael's hands and cutting Michael off as the older had done to him not a minute before. "Stop being such a stubborn ass, and let me help! _You_ don't want me involved— but _I_ won't let you do this alone."

Michael pursed his lips in thought as he took in Lucifer's words. "I'm not alone," Michael eventually refuted lamely.

A smirk made its way onto Lucifer's face. "Catch me up."

**o-O-o**

He found the archangel staring out across the ocean, watching the sunrise, when he landed next to him. "Hello, Castiel," the older being greeted, not turning his gaze from the view.

"Lucifer," Castiel responded in turn. "Sam tells me you've come to an arrangement with Michael."

"You make it sound so formal. It's nothing more than Michael acquiring my help against Raphael's faction," Lucifer said, waving the notion off.

Castiel frowned at Lucifer's declaration, Sam having told him differently, but said nothing of it. "Will it be all out war as the rumors suggest?"

"Michael is preparing for that, but he also thinks that he can talk Raphael down. That might work, it might not. It's fifty-fifty at the moment," Lucifer said with a shrug.

Again with the nonchalance, but then Castiel was dealing with an archangel. Theoretically, once Lucifer officially joined Michael's side, Raphael didn't stand a chance. The second youngest archangel hadn't stood much of a chance in the first place, but Raphael had the majority of the Host on his side or under his orders. However, now that the oldest archangel was now leading his armies side-by-side with the next eldest, Castiel knew that many within the Host would flock back to Michael's side.

And this wasn't so much because of ingrained mentalism, but because Michael was a symbol of all that was right in Heaven. Michael had recently received orders from their Father. If it was seen the full extent of what the order entailed – specifically the reunification of the two oldest archangels – the older angels that remembered the times before Lucifer's rebellion that weren't already on Michael's side would fall back into the fold, some of the younger angels eventually following them and so forth—

"Did you know that Heaven has dungeons?" Lucifer brought up out of nowhere. He said this in a hollow voice, yet Castiel could feel the disgust and anger radiating off of the archangel. "Or that there are 're-education' centers?"

When Castiel didn't answer, Lucifer bristled, metaphorical hackles raising. Without warning, the archangel picked up a large rock and chucked off the cliff-side into the raging ocean below them. "How much has changed? How much does Michael still not bother to tell me?!

"The only reason I even found out was Michael mentioning them— that in the event we did go to war, those places should be taken as soon as possible. Why does Heaven even have _dungeons_ or _re-education centers?_   When I was cast out, Gadreel was only in a secluded area from the rest of the Host. There weren't any dungeons to speak of!"

Castiel chose that moment of pause in Lucifer's rant to speak. "Gadreel?"

"I wonder what you were told about him," Lucifer scoffed, disdain clear in this voice. "That it's his fault I was let into Eden to corrupt Adam and Eve? Well, it wasn't. He didn't know what I was doing. He thought I was just paying a visit. The fighting between Michael and I was still just idle gossip for the most part. He didn't have any reason not to trust me."

And that information was far more than Castiel would have ever known had he not left the Host almost a year ago. "Did you ask Michael to restore my connection to Heaven?"

Lucifer frowned, finally looking at Castiel. The frown turned into an expression of surprise. "Got your wings back, did you? But, no, I did not, and I don't think Michael had anything to do with it either."

"God, then?"

"You never really know with that old geezer," Lucifer said with a shrug.

"I doubt He would appreciate being called that."

Lucifer snorted, shoulders shaking before the noise turned into full out laughter. "Oh, Castiel," he got out when he caught his breath. "There are many things you need to learn. So let me tell you, that was nothing compared to some of the things I've called Him...

"I can see why the Winchesters like you so much," Lucifer mused after a moment. "Not only have you brought me out of a foul mood, but you've also probably succeeded in Father's wishes far more than the rest of us have."

Again, Castiel was frowning, and a small smile refused to slip from Lucifer face. "Life changing fact number three: lo and behold, upon the creation of humans, Father gathered us in His throne room and told us to bow before humanity and love them more than even Himself. The whole of our _mission_ was to protect what He created… So, A+ on a job well done, Castiel."

"Sam and Dean have told me their ideas on what Father told Michael," Castiel finally said, moving to sit beside Lucifer, legs hanging over the edge of the cliff-face. "And I believe their suspicions were correct."

"Yet another thing Michael has refused to tell me," Lucifer grumbled. "Well? Are you going to spill the little secret?"

Castiel shook his head. It was something Lucifer had to find out himself.

"Great," Lucifer mutter. Then he perked up, as if he'd just gotten the most brilliant idea. "How'd you feel about breaking into Heaven?" he asked with an unnerving smile, not to mention the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I—"

"Come on, you can tell me how much trouble I'll be in on the way," Lucifer told him, bringing the angel up to his feet with him. And with one flap of Lucifer's magnificent wings, they were away.

**o-O-o**

Michael didn't say a word about Gadreel's presence. But he did point to a free room that they could use. Lucifer had gotten an earful about doing things without telling Michael first (especially since it had involved breaking into a secure area of Heaven). However, Michael hadn't reprimanded Lucifer about anything else, and Michael had even greeted Castiel when the angel came in helping Lucifer carry Gadreel to Michael's office.

Lucifer knew that Michael would eventually be visiting Gadreel when the angel finally woke. But that would have to be after Michael dealt with Raphael. A day that was coming all too soon.

**o-O-o**

Sam loosened his grip on his laptop as he registered just whom it was that had flown into the motel room. Maybe it was irrational and outright insane that Sam was finding Lucifer's presence _normal,_ _familiar_ , but that was what it was coming to out of all the archangel's visits.

"So is this becoming a regular thing?" Sam found himself asking. He spoke it halfheartedly, meant as a joke, but somehow he was also anxious to know the answer.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Not so much after this, I suspect."

Sam frowned, closing his laptop and setting it down on the motel room's cheap table. "Has Raphael made his move?"

"No," Lucifer answered, shaking his head. "But it'll be any day now… I may have bumped that date up sooner than Michael would like, but it doesn't change anything."

"What did you do?" Sam asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Why did he feel like he was scolding a child? Or better yet – why did it feel natural? Almost like he was berating himself for something that could have been seen as trivial to anyone else but not to him?

"It wasn't anything Earth-endangering," the archangel said somewhat defensively. "I was just correcting a mistake made a long time ago."

Sam waited for the elaboration of Lucifer's answer. It was getting easier – still a little awkward at times, but nevertheless, easier – to talk to the archangel. Especially now that Lucifer wasn't aiming to get Sam to say 'yes' or end the world as humanity knew it. The hardest part about talking to him (that Sam thought anyway) was how hardheaded Lucifer could get – which Sam couldn't help but find somewhat ironic because of Lucifer's tendency to complain about Michael being stubborn as hell.

But Lucifer didn't seem to want to elaborate on this one and, instead, changed the subject to the case Sam and Dean were working on.

"We're pretty sure it's a demon," Sam told him. "But even for them, this one's weird. From what we can tell, it's checking in deals early."

"Who's taken over Hell?" Lucifer asked with a thoughtful frown.

"Crowley, but we kind of already talked to him. He said it wasn't any of his people— he's against breaking deals or something." Sam had opened his laptop. He might as well try to get through the last two articles before he stopped for the night – Dean wouldn't be able to complain that Sam had gotten _distracted_ if Sam had some useful information when Dean did happen to get back to the motel room.

Lucifer blinked, pursing his lips. "Wait— Crowley… as in the one that gave you and your brother the Colt to shoot me in the face with? That Crowley?"

Sam looked up from the screen. That was what Lucifer remembered Crowley for? "Yeah."

"That little pest is sitting on the throne?"

It was like Lucifer was trying to wrap his head around the idea of Crowley being 'King of Hell', as the demon was calling himself. Sam and Dean were pretty sure that the only reason Crowley had even claimed the throne was because the demon thought Lucifer wasn't going to be an issue much longer – or at least, wouldn't care what happened to Hell anyway…

"Good."

Sam's focus snapped back to Lucifer. "What?"

"Crowley can manage Hell just fine," Lucifer stated impassively, heading back towards the door. "Be right back— I've got a demon to smite."

Sam was only able to stare at the door in shock until not five minutes later when Lucifer reappeared with a rustle of what Sam assumed to be the feathers of the archangel's wings. And Lucifer was now lounging on Sam's bed.

"So I can't really say if stunt demon number three was working for Crowley – or had anything to do with him for that matter – but the little trouble maker won't be bothering you anymore," Lucifer announced. "Back to more important matters—"

"Did you seriously just go and smite a demon so we could talk?" Sam sputtered.

"I've done worse for less, Sam."

Again, Sam just stared. Then it hit him that though he may have been on better terms than most with Lucifer, this was still the Devil he was talking to. However, this Lucifer was more… docile? than the Lucifer that was the bringer of the Apocalypse. Sam had the smallest amount of hope that maybe he could get Lucifer to see that he didn't have to hate humanity.

Sam sighed. "Important matters?" he asked, steering back to what Lucifer had been about to say before Sam interrupted him.

"It's come to the attention of Michael and myself that you and Dean still have the four horsemen's rings. Michael wants them so Raphael can't get his hands on them," Lucifer informed him in a flippant voice.

An idea came to Sam. "Couldn't you put Raphael in the Cage?"

"No," came the frigid answer, Lucifer's tone hardening. "For everyone involved's sanity, we're not going there."

Sam had to bite down on his lower lip to keep himself from speaking before thinking. He didn't know a thing about what being in the Cage was like. He couldn't imagine what kind of disconnect one would might feel in there, cut off from the rest of the world. So who was he to judge who was (or who wasn't) put such a place?

It was kind of obvious that Lucifer had some issues about the Cage. Sam made sure to note that he probably shouldn't bring the subject up again unless he really needed to. He also took note that he should probably tell Dean and Cas not to talk about it around the archangel either.

"Okay… Um," Sam started, trying to think of something to get away from the danger topic. "Then what's Michael's plan right now?"

Lucifer huffed, shifting on the bed and grabbing one of the pillows. "Michael is still insistent on trying to talk to our younger, bigoted brother."

"And your _other_ younger brother… What would Gabriel have done?"

Sam didn't miss the way Lucifer stiffened, the way the archangel seemed to shut down. "Are you suggesting that I run away? Stay on Earth with you _humans?_ Long term?"

"You wouldn't have to be around humans all the time— There are plenty of places we haven't touched yet, and not all of us are as bad as you make us out to be," Sam told him. "And if you really don't want to be around normal people, you could just stick around me and Dean for the most part. When we're long dead, I'm sure you'll have figured something out by then."

But Lucifer was already shaking his head. "I can't just leave—"

"You're not getting much of a choice, though. A civil war is going to destroy Heaven: Michael knows it, and Raphael knows it— Hell, Raphael is probably _counting_ on it. Raphael's not going to listen to Michael," Sam reasoned. "The only way this is going to end is with one of your deaths— _you_ know that."


	2. Illusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Violence (though, it's nothing that wouldn't be in the show) at the beginning of this chapter.

_"What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story. And the greatest good is little enough; for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams."_

— _Pedro Calderon de la Barca_

* * *

The three stood in the wide open grasslands of the Great Plains. Thunder clashed overhead in the darkening sky despite the lack of clouds– it was merely the world's natural response to the power radiating off of these three beings. Three archangels, those left of the original four.

Michael – the eldest, his Father's son in all respects – strode forward with determination. Lucifer – the second oldest, the one they knew was their Father's favorite – stayed back, several paces away. It was the third oldest that the elder two stood against. Raphael was still adamant in his stance towards Lucifer's demise. He had made it clear that he wasn't going to be talked into backing down.

 _"The only way this is going to end is with one of your deaths_ — _you know that."_

They all knew it, Lucifer thought to himself as he watched Michael stop a few feet away from their younger brother. In one way or another, each of the archangels was bound to die. As their Father had once told Lucifer, "All fall into Death's hold eventually."

Some people's time just came sooner than other's.

Lucifer supposed Gabriel was lucky to not have to see this. This battle that was between not two but all three of the youngest's older brothers. There wasn't any turning back now. Destiny or not, this fight had always been inevitable. Ever since Lucifer took on that damn Mark.

_"You realize that Michael and I can't exactly just kill Raphael without an uprising occurring."_

_"Which is why I'm suggesting something else."_

It was a horrible, stupid plan— but it would work. Lucifer didn't see any reason why it wouldn't. At least the Winchesters weren't involved in this part of it (because when a practically flawless plan involves either one of them, expect that plan to go to Hell – sometimes literally). Truly though, whether this would work or not was up to Lucifer.

He felt no joy in what Michael would have to go through, nor did Lucifer envy what would become of Raphael. He doubted any would. But it was the only way to end this war before it reached past the archangels' influence to control.

And Lucifer hated it. He hated that he would have to give up what he had just gotten back – even if it was different, it had still been something he could have gone back to. It had still been home with Michael there. Michael was all that Lucifer had left, but it was Lucifer that had to go.

"Well, brothers?" Raphael said to them, his voice easily heard at its normal volume despite the booming thunder and roaring winds around them. "Have you come back to your senses?"

Lucifer could almost feel the sneered malice dripping from Raphael's tone.

_"I'm guessing it's kind of like a family trait that all of you archangels are stubborn, but that means Raphael's not going to stop. He's going to do as much as he can before he's taken down."_

It didn't help that just the other day Michael had found a spy within the upper ranks of his own garrison – a division comprised of angels all handpicked by Michael. The unveiling of the spy had lead Michael to question just how far Raphael's influence reached, which sparked suspicion throughout Michael's forces. One thing lead to another...

And now, here they were.

 _"You know, Gabriel tricked Dean and I into thinking we killed him_ _—_ _more than once."_

_"He's not coming back this time."_

_"That's not the point."_

Because the point was that Gabriel – the trickster that he was – was much more clever than the rest of his brothers, even if it was he who had died first. And while Gabriel was often seen as more of a careless character, his strategies rivaled Lucifer's at times. Lucifer could attest to that, which was what made him feel all the more saddened at Gabriel's death by his hands.

Maybe if he hadn't killed Gabriel, they wouldn't be in such a big mess. Gabriel had always been good with sorting out issues. The fighting between Michael and Lucifer had been too much for Gabriel to handle though. But this – a situation in which Michael and Lucifer were side by side – this was something Gabriel could have solved in a matter of a couple days, if not hours.

But then Lucifer would have been dead. Because in that hotel, both had known only one was going to leave alive. And perhaps that was what tore at Lucifer most: that Gabriel had gone back into the hotel knowing he was going to die. At least Michael didn't dare touch that subject yet. It gave Lucifer time still to think about it without a filtered excuse.

Gabriel was dead. Lucifer killed him. Plain and simple.

And to think that was only one of his crimes—

"It is you who's not thinking clearly, Raphael," Michael challenged, voice amplified to echo even louder across the plains. "What could you possibly stand to gain by this? Father has made it clear to me that the Apocalypse was never meant to be."

"You're being deluded, brother," Raphael called back. "Lucifer is known as the Deceiver for a reason."

 _"I can't do_ this _. Not to him."_

_"You're going to have to."_

For once, Raphael wasn't completely wrong with what he was saying— doing. The former healer's words would be easy to tag onto. All the better for the plan. All the worse for what was about to happen.

 _Damn it all,_ Lucifer growled inwardly. He was already feeling guilty about something he hadn't even done yet. In theory the plan itself wasn't all that bad, but Lucifer knew that in reality the effects would be devastating. Why did it always have to be him? Why was it always his fault?

Taking in a steeling breath, Lucifer let his blade slip into his hand as he stepped forward to stand in front of Michael and then spun gracefully on his heel, his back now to Raphael. "If there's one thing Raphael here isn't wrong about," he said slowly, "it's that you've been played, Michael."

Lucifer wasn't sure what hurt worse: saying the words themselves or seeing the flicker of doubt and betrayal pass through Michael's eyes. He tried to keep the smug smirk up and his raised eyebrow as taunting as he could even with every other thought telling him to stop.

"What?" The broken whisper fell from Michael's lips like sand running down an hourglass. Just like the time that was running out.

Lucifer ripped the scoff from himself, looking away momentarily for a short reprieve from those eyes. "You really think I want this—" He gestured wildly to their surrounding, the whole situation really, but to Michael it would look like Lucifer was pointing between them. "—as if I want to go back to Heaven and the Host after _everything_ you put me through."

Behind him, Lucifer could sense Raphael shifting as well as the air of smug contempt around the third archangel. It was looking like Raphael was smart enough to let Lucifer finish. He'd probably try to throw his own pitch in to seal the shebang at the end.

Michael looked down to the ground, a frown creasing his forehead. "You lied to me?"

"Look who's finally catching the drift." The only lie Lucifer had told was the one he was weaving now, and he already wanted to rip his own heart out because of it.

" _Why_ , then?" Michael snapped. "Why go along with what I was doing? Why put me through that?"

Lucifer shook his head, drawing that smirk back on his face. "You're just too easy… 'I can save Luci, so he must want that too'," he mocked. "You think a band-aid is going to fix millennia of years locked up because of you. And what better way to get revenge than to build you up just to knock you over lower than ever."

Lightning flashed dead above them, illuminating the area for a brief moment, but the moment was long enough for Lucifer to see the burning emotions in Michael's eyes. He saw the hurt and anger and betrayal, the pain and hate and shock, but most of all Lucifer saw defeat. And he hated it.

 _"You're going to have to make it look real_ _—_ _play the part."_

Lucifer felt Raphael grab him from behind, hands pinning his arms back. At the slight flash of doubt, Lucifer broke free of Raphael's hold. Michael knew Lucifer wasn't helpless, and Lucifer had a show to put on— couldn't let Michael think otherwise. He elbowed Raphael in the face, sending the youngest there to the ground. Then Lucifer turned his attention back to Michael.

"Well, _brother?_ " he taunted. "Whatcha' gonna do? You even got the guts to punish me? I killed Gabriel, maybe it'll take Raphael before it gets through your thick skull I'm still _Satan_."

Finally, Michael pulled out his archangel blade, sadness overwhelming his being. "I won't kill you, Lucifer."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Michael. "Guess that means I'll be killing you then—"

With an ungraceful _oomph_ , Lucifer was tackled to the ground by Raphael, and during a short scuffle on the grass, Raphael got in a blow to Lucifer's head, leaving Lucifer somewhat dazed. Raphael then pinned Lucifer down once more, in a secure hold this time.

"What more evidence do you need, Michael? Kill him," Raphael said, rallying the eldest even as Lucifer put up a minor struggle to get free.

But Michael was shaking his head again. "No—"

Lucifer threw Raphael off of him, taking the younger's blade in the process. The blood flowing down past his right eye made him look feral as he impaled the blade into Raphael's knee. The third archangel howled in pain, hands quickly reaching down to pull the blade out. But Lucifer was faster. He took the blade once more, this time aiming for Michael.

And then he felt the blade pierce all the way through him, severing his spine in two. Raphael's blade slipped out of his fingers. It didn't hurt. Not like he thought it would. No, it was the changed look in Michael's eyes that really killed him – the new pain, shock, horror.

_"Michael can't know… At least, not until it's all over and done with."_

Lucifer slowly turned his gaze down to the blade sticking out of his chest, blood seeping into his vessel's clothes, drenching it all in red. The liquid was already filling his lungs, making him cough up blood as he fell to his knees.

The buzzing in his ears must have been Michael talking – that would make more sense of why there wasn't any sound matching his moving lips, which were getting even harder to see now. Black encroached on the edges of his vision, and his grace was burning up. Was this what it was like for Gabriel?

Michael was shaking him – did he _have_ to do that? At least Lucifer would get to be held by his older brother one last time.

"Lucifer! Lucifer, look at me— _look at me!_ "

 _Demanding as always,_ Lucifer thought, but then he owed Michael this. Dulling blue eyes connected with stormy gray ones. Michael's hands were holding him up and stroking his face and running through his hair. He was pouring grace over Lucifer – not that it would do anything. The actions could only comfort.

"No, no, no— don't you dare, Lucifer. I'm not letting you go," Michael's voice rang in his ears. Lucifer could feel himself getting pulled closer to Michael, where it was warm – _safe_.

"I don't care," Michael continued, his grip on Lucifer's shirt tightening. "I don't care if you've hated me this entire time because I hurt you. I don't care if you keep hating me— You can have your stupid revenge… Just— just don't leave me. Please— Not again."

And Lucifer be damned if those weren't tears in Michael's eyes. He couldn't do it. He couldn't leave Michael like this. "It's— 's not— your… f-fault," he choked out.

With that he let go.

His grace burned out in a brilliant combustion that could have been seen hundreds of miles away, and the shadows of once beautiful wings were etched upon the ground.

**o-O-o**

Michael stopped breathing. "Luce..?"

He felt like a fledgling again. Back when he still hadn't completely figured out how to take care of his little brother. Back during the time that the pull of their bond had almost been ripped from him because he'd been careless. Because he'd left Lucifer alone with _her_ out of a brief spite.

He'd learned after that. They both had, and they became inseparable. Then Lucifer had been given the Mark, the fighting started, and it was their bond that had suffered. Still, after everything, Michael had been able to sense it… Not anymore. It was gone. He was gone.

Lucifer was dead.

Michael felt hollow, empty. There was another hole in his grace that would never be filled. Another brother gone forever. A tear slid down his cheek and dripped onto Lucifer's body. His own body shuddered as a choked sob escaped his lips. He pulled Lucifer's body closer to him, burying his face into the crook of the still warm neck. Even kneeling on the ground with Lucifer in his arms, Michael was able to rock them ever so slightly back and forth, denial running its course.

"Michael…"

White, hot, grace-filled eyes snapped to the other being in the plains. "Silence," Michael hissed. "I won't hear a word from you…"

"I—"

"Go, Raphael. Fly as far as you can, and pray to Father I never see you again."

The dark-skinned archangel was gone before Michael even finished his threat – his promise.

The clouds that had begun forming as Michael's grief escalated released their burden. Rain poured in sheets and waves, drenching the area and extending to reach across the whole country.

And in a steady mantra, barely heard above the low rumbling thunder, one could hear:

_"Bring him back… Please, please, bring him back…"_

**o-O-o**

"What did you do?"

Sam paused in what he was doing, putting down his laptop. "Why do you assume I had anything to do with it?" he responded flatly.

"Well, first of all, you're the one in cahoots with Lucifer, and then you don't seem all that surprised about the weather or the giant explosion of light about a state over. And let's not forget that you have that look," Dean pointed out.

Sam frowned. "What look?"

"Don't change the subject," his brother warned.

"I helped end a war," Sam answered flatly with only the barest hint of an underlining emotion – guilt. "But now... Now, I'm not so sure if what I suggested was the best thing to do."

"Sam—"

The younger Winchester cut his older brother off with a glare. "I'll handle the repercussions, Dean."

**o-O-o**

Lucifer slowed his movements to a halt even as his eyes swept the countertop for any sign of a speck or blemish. Satisfied with seeing his own reflection on the surface of the counter, he folded the cloth he'd been using and set it down next to the sink. He then turned to lean on the counter, his elbows holding him up as he crossed his legs at the ankles. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes.

How long had it been since he took a moment to just stop? It had been a while, that's for sure. After weeks of burying himself in mindless work – something that Sam had told him wasn't the best way to... handle things – of doing the little chores (like keeping the house clean, doing 'research' for the hunter, reading and revising several— _most_ of the hunter's 'ancient' tomes, and Lucifer was just now picking up the cooking aspect of the domestic lifestyle) for the older human, Bobby, it was Castiel that finally called Lucifer out of the form of isolation he'd put himself into.

_Castiel moved to block his path out of the room, crossing his arms in an authoritative stance as he halted in the doorway. Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the angel. "Get out of my way, Castiel."_

_"No." Defiant eyes matched his own. "You can't keep this up."_

_"And you can't tell me what to do," Lucifer replied petulantly with a huff._

_Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes. "At least talk about it to Sam_ _—_ _"_

_"There's nothing to talk about," he ground out, cutting the angel off as he moved forward._

_But Castiel stood firm against Lucifer's advancement. In fact, he even mirrored Lucifer's step forward. "Avoiding this – all of it – any longer is going to lead to a massive fallout," Castiel said warningly. "Tying to fix that will be harder to take care of than you just dealing with it now."_

_"It's not that simple, Castiel," Lucifer responded, exhaustion and weariness coloring his being._

_Castiel's expression softened at the admission. "We are here, Lucifer, and we will listen."_

Lucifer jerked as his grace was shocked. He had to inhale sharply through his nose to keep himself from letting out several swears. He hated that part of the heavy and _complex_ wardings placed all over the Singer Salvage Yard. It was the suppressing sigils that he himself had placed that were the ones shocking his grace. They were designed to keep his grace in check, to make sure he wouldn't alert anyone to his presence because he'd used said grace.

The doorbell rang.

Lucifer blinked, glancing to the front door before turning his head towards the doorway leading to the basement. Sam and Dean would just waltz right in, and Lucifer didn't know of anyone Bobby was expecting… What was the old man even doing anyway? Something to do with that crossroads demon he'd not-so-politely asked Lucifer to avoid while the human was summoning it to the house's basement.

Bobby came up the stairs a minute later, muttering a thing or two about demons and time. Taking a seat in the chair of the desk with all of the phones, Lucifer watched the human walk past him and open the door to find that the person who rang the bell in the first place was Marcy Ward, the 'new' neighbor.

"She was lying about the wood chipper," Lucifer commented as Bobby walked back past the kitchen to set the ginger peach cobbler down on the counter. "And I think she likes you."

"Really now," Bobby drawled, rolling his eyes. He directed a glare at Lucifer, and Lucifer promptly set his feet back down on the ground and not on the top of the desk, though the archangel remained in his reclined position.

"Still don't want to tell me why you have a demon in the basement?" he asked as innocently as possible.

"It's none of yer damn business, and I don't need to be spilling my issues to you of all people." The human grumbled the last part under his breath, knowing perfectly well that Lucifer would hear him. "And I certainly don't need ta be indebted to Satan."

Lucifer scrunched his nose up at the title. Bobby had picked that one in particular because he knew Lucifer hated it ('Satan' was preferred over 'Devil', though, apparently). "If anything I would be… paying off my debt to you. Call my little proposition making us even."

Bobby continued to stare at Lucifer, mulling over the offer. As much as the man hated to admit it, having Lucifer work with him to get ownership of his soul back would be very, very helpful. And if it was Lucifer that said this would make them even, then… Bobby let out a soft, huffing growl of frustration. He better not regret this.

"It has to do with Crowley," he started.

A devilish smile lit Lucifer's face. "I'm listening."

**o-O-o**

Castiel appeared beside Michael, head bowed slightly in respect of the older being. Michael had called him in for a weekly report of his time watching over the Winchesters. Usually, Michael would look off into the distance when Castiel gave his report – which mostly involved hunts the brothers went on and sometimes parts of their daily lives – and Castiel would be the only one to talk aside from a few short words from Michael. However, today Michael's full attention was on Castiel as soon as the angel walked into the archangel's office.

"How are you, Castiel?" Michael asked him, gesturing for the angel to have a seat.

Castiel sat down, giving a slight nod. "I am doing well. Am I wrong to assume you are as well?"

Michael made a small huff at the inquiry, the barest hint of a smile crossing his features – disappearing as quickly as it had come. "I'm afraid the answer to that is not as well as in the past."

"Of course— my apologies for any ignorance on my part," Castiel began, but Michael cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"It's nothing to apologize for, nor to worry over," Michael assured the angel with more amusement than the archangel had shown in a long while. It was a sign of the archangel coming out of his depression.

And yet, Castiel knew that Michael was no where close to the end of his grievance, and it would have been a time before Michael would have been able to fully accept the events of that day. Perhaps whenever Lucifer decided it was a 'good time' to reveal his living status, Michael would be able to actually get better – because then he wouldn't have to live with the guilt of killing his brother. But no, Lucifer was being stubborn and – _for some reason that Castiel didn't understand_ – refused to come out of hiding.

Castiel let out the smallest of frustrated huffs – the action possibly taken as a steeling breath instead of the annoyed thought that it was. He began his report the usual updates: Sam and Dean were doing well, the lamia hunt the brothers had gone on, a slight note on how unusual the creature's presence was, a brief mention of Bobby, any movements that Castiel had seen involving Crowley.

However, Castiel had to carefully word his report to leave out anything regarding Lucifer… as usual. After Castiel had 'gotten on board' with Sam and Lucifer's plan and the deed was done, Castiel had spent several hours with Lucifer going over the details of what could and couldn't go into his reports. And now that Lucifer was finally interacting with the Winchesters and Bobby more, Castiel had to be more careful with his words.

"What do you mean?" Michael inquired out of nowhere during a brief pause in Castiel's report. The archangel had been looking down at other reports (written ones), but now the full brunt of Michael's attention was back on Castiel.

Castiel blinked, frowning. He didn't recall saying anything oddly…

"The warding around the Singer Salvage Yard shouldn't have caused any problems for you," Michael continued, either not noticing Castiel's hesitation in answering or just brushing it off. "I've checked the sigils myself— even added a few… there aren't any others that can rewrite them."

"I'm not sure what—"

"The wardings, Castiel," Michael interrupted, setting down the pen that he'd been holding. "You said the wardings around Bobby's house were getting in your way— that you weren't staying on the property for long periods of time because you'd leave feeling a bit drained. The only sigils I added were for concealment, but you're suggesting they've been tweaked to add suppression… Why would that be, Castiel?"

**o-O-o**

Lucifer let his eyes skim over the page of the magazine, taking in the information on the paper before turning to the next page. He was lounging on the bed that Sam usually occupied whenever the human brother was at Bobby's house. The smug smile that was still on his face from earlier was the only clue to how he was feeling – which was rather like the one of which the cat that ate the mouse wore. The self-proclaimed 'King of Hell' hadn't known what hit him.

After the "I thought you were dead" moment from Crowley and the "I don't care about Hell's throne" response from Lucifer, Crowley had gone from defensive to subtly suspicious. The demon had even gotten straight to the point. Of course, Lucifer had made it rather obvious what he wanted, having Bobby stay in the room with him after the human had summoned the demon.

Suffice to say, Bobby had gotten ownership of his soul back, and Crowley was now well aware of what just might happen to him if he tried doing anything that would detrimentally affect the wellbeing of any of the humans under Lucifer's… protection. At least that would keep the demons off of Sam and Dean for a while. Well, any demon activity in general.

Lucifer paused in his mindless reading. Since when did he actually care about those two. Yes, Sam was his true vessel which gave the human some leeway over his importance to Lucifer, and that Dean was Michael's true vessel might as well have the same affect on his status. But that didn't mean that he should have gone out of his way to help their surrogate father – not that Lucifer didn't feel any obligation to the old man; Bobby was giving Lucifer a place to stay after all.

He set the magazine down on his lap, letting his eyes stare out into empty space. He couldn't really make any more excuses, could he? He was letting himself get attached. While he still didn't like the human race, he didn't feel like actively going out to have them all exterminated (not that he could in the first place anymore).

If he were to try and have all the humans killed, he wouldn't have anyone to make ice cream. Lucifer had come to like the frozen dessert… and _some_ of the, uh, 'literature' he found on the Internet wasn't _that_ bad. And not all of the music they made was horrendous.

Lucifer felt a frown overcome his face. What would people think of him now? The mockery he'd receive. _"The Devil's gone softhearted."_ Or _"Satan's not such a baddie."_ The worst of them: _"Go do this, Lucifer; good boy."_

 _Oh_ Dad _, I've been watching too much TV,_ Lucifer thought with a groan. He flinched as his grace was suddenly shocked. "Dammit," he hissed lowly. He still wasn't used to it even after four months.

"Hey, you okay?"

Lucifer glared at the human standing in the doorway. "No, I keep getting shocked by that stupid spell, and it's getting annoying."

"Weren't you the one who cast it?" Sam asked rhetorically. The younger Winchester knew perfectly well that Lucifer had been the one to do so; he'd watched the archangel do it. "And you said that it was one of the only reasons Michael doesn't know you're alive right now," he continued, walking over to the edge of the bed.

"If Michael were to try to find me – assuming he knew I was alive – he would do it by searching for my grace. Sometimes using grace is a subconscious act, Sam. The spell 'warns' me to _not_ use it before I even try," Lucifer reminded the human. Lucifer didn't have to explain to Sam why he didn't just lock his grace away, and Sam knew not to suggest it.

"So what were you trying to do just then?" the younger Winchester inquired.

"My grace _was_ _probably_ going to send a pulse out in order to sense the life forces of whatever's in the area. That's usually what it is anyway," Lucifer answered, muttering the last part.

Sam sighed. "It's been four months, Lucifer," Sam started, continuing even as Lucifer tensed. "Raphael's gone. Michael didn't take as long as we thought to make him leave, and Cas says that the majority of the Host wouldn't be against you going back to Heaven."

"It's been four months for a reason, Sam," Lucifer retaliated. "If Michael saw me again so soon—"

"He won't try to kill you," Sam cut Lucifer off exasperatedly.

" _No_ , he would _lock me up_ ," Lucifer shot back, standing up and pointing a finger at Sam. "You know what _I_ had to say to him— what _we_ tricked him into doing…"

"And if we explain the plan to him, I'm sure he'd understand—"

"You don't know my brother, Sam! Sure, _Dean_ may have eventually forgiven you if you pulled this stunt on him, but this is _Michael_ ," Lucifer said heatedly. "This is Michael in grieving— The last time he was like this was when I was cast out, and that lasted for centuries."

With that Lucifer stomped down the stairs and stormed out of the front door, leaving Sam standing stunned in the room. He needed some fresh air. And to think that he'd been having such a great day, too.

**o-O-o**

Michael had been having a bad day. Key word: _had_.

After months of trudging through a buried pit of ruthless emotions— of focusing on nothing but the bare minimum to keep Heaven running, he'd come out of his distorted daze enough to remember. He remembered the poisonous bite to his brother's words. He remembered the warm, sticky blood on his hands – the soft, dying glow of Lucifer's grace.

_"It's— 's not— your… f-fault…"_

Why would he say that? Of all the things Lucifer could have shoved in his face— could have said, why those four words? How was it not his fault? Michael should have paid more attention— should have conferred with him more— should have talked with his _brother_. Maybe then he would have seen – have known and been able to convince Lucifer otherwise. Maybe then Lucifer would still have been alive.

But 'what if's and 'could have's are torturous dreams. Fickle illusions that the mind makes up to hide from bitter reality. Still, knowing that fact, why would someone want to face the real world when it's masked behind a curtain of ignorance? Why would anyone want to face the hurt that came with living in a world of brutally honest truth?

And yet… humans went about their lives dealing with such dilemmas. It was as Michael had been watching Sam and Dean and Bobby not so long ago that he'd witnessed it, and only now did the archangel understand it. Humans were strong – even if they didn't believe that fact all the time. Michael still couldn't completely grasp how they dealt with moving forward – _getting up every single day_ – but their willpower to do so gave him the push to try.

Which had lead him to this moment. Castiel's implications hadn't made any sense. Michael had put those wardings up himself, and unless Raphael was back, there wasn't anyone else alive that should have been able to change them. And Michael doubted that God would have changed the sigils.

The enigma made Michael forget about the reports sitting in front of him – the ones that told him of the current birth/death statistics on Earth as well as the updated census on the angelic side of Heaven. It made him forget about the way Gadreel still refused to even look at him. It made him question what exactly Castiel was trying to hide from him.

"What aren't you telling me, Castiel? Don't make me look into your mind for answers," Michael said in a low voice.

Despite the warning, Michael wouldn't resort to handing Castiel over to Naomi. As Commander of the Host and the Firstborn, Michael had his own ways to tap into his younger siblings' thoughts— ways that didn't involve Naomi's barbaric methods. Either way, Michael wanted answers, and he was going to get them. Now.

"No one makes you do anything."

Michael tilted his head to the side minutely, shock briefly showing on his features. _It could_ _n't—_ "Where did you hear that?"

"I can't," Castiel bit out, obviously fighting a battle within himself.

Michael's eyes narrowed at the angel, grace licking the gray of his eyes. He didn't want to let himself hope only for it to be crushed. He wanted it to be Raphael – as unlikely as it was. Anything but _him_. Michael didn't think he'd be able to handle it.

"Just who exactly is staying at Bobby Singer's house?" Michael asked slowly, enunciating each syllable carefully, making sure his voice didn't betray him.

It was the way Castiel tore his gaze away from Michael's, looking down to the floor. Michael felt like he'd been punched in the gut. _No_. No, no, no— It couldn't be _him_. Not when Michael had felt _his_ grace burn and then burst into nothing. Not when Michael had seen the light fade from _his_ eyes. Not when Michael had been the one to slide his blade in to _his_ chest.

Michael flew from his office, leaving Castiel in a scramble to follow him. Michael didn't care. He was going to the Singer Salvage Yard. Michael was going to see Lucifer. He was going to go see his brother.

**o-O-o**

Lucifer took in a deep breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. He was sitting on the ground – back against the solitary tree in a clearing some distance behind Singer's house. Lucifer had found the clearing during the first week he'd been there after Michael 'killed' him. It was one of the few places on Singer's property where that stupid spell didn't have as much effect on him. While inside the house it would give him a jolting shock, here it was more of a tap on the shoulder, but it also meant the spell wasn't as effective here, which was why Lucifer only came here occasionally.

Damn it all, what was _wrong_ with him?

Lucifer brought his knees up to his chest, loosely wrapping his arms around them even as he lay his head back on the trunk of the tree. Staring up into the branches, Lucifer watched as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, causing them to sway and let sunlight filter through. Light and shadows played on his face.

Why had he told Sam that? Lucifer hadn't lied to Sam, but he hadn't exactly told the truth either…

This was all a great, big mess. Lucifer hated it. It was stupid and infantile and senseless. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Michael again. What he'd been trying so hard to avoid had just come back to hit him right in the face.

And for the first time in a long while, Lucifer let his emotions run wild. His anger froze the flora around him, and his grief trailed down his cheeks as he curled in on himself, his head now buried in his arms. He felt no joy, nor did he feel relief. There was little fear, but there was disgust – aimed at himself more than any other. His hate raged, but his love ran deeper.

 _"There are many opposites in this world, Lucifer," his Father had once told him._ _"There are sometimes in betweens to them as well, but one cannot exist without the other. Just as light cannot be without dark; dark cannot be without light. And you'll find that the opposite of love is not hate but apathy."_

How ironic was it that the Morning Star – _Light Bringer –_ was caught in the shadow of despair? Had he loved too much? For his hate burned with just as much force. At the very least, could he not turn it all off? He didn't want to feel _this –_ he didn't want to feel any of it. It _hurt_.

"Lucifer?"

Said archangel tensed. Red-rimmed from crying, icy blue eyes snapped up to look at the speaker. Was his own mind messing with him now? Just like in the Cage? It had to be – because Michael wouldn't be looking at him like that otherwise.

"Lucifer?" Michael called again, taking a step forward. His foot made a soft crunch in the frost and snow. When had it started snowing? He wasn't even in control of his own grace. Lucifer cast his gaze back down.

"Little one, look at me," Michael said softly, crouching beside him and taking Lucifer's hands into his own. Michael's hands were warm like his fiery grace. A welcoming light at times; a scorching inferno during others. But more than anything, these hands were real. "It's okay, brother."

Lucifer's eyes shot up at that, and he saw Michael give him a small smile. "While I get that it's reasonably in season, don't you think it's a little odd for it to be snowing in an isolated clearing?"

Lucifer glared at Michael. Who was he to be joking right now? "Weren't you the one who set off Mount Vesuvius?" he shot back.

Michael's smile faltered slightly. " _That_ was an accident, and it wasn't even my fault."

"So the demons hadn't been lying about it," Lucifer said with a smirk, the stinging of his eyes forgotten. "It's good to see you again, Michael."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you, little brother," he responded warmly with only the barest hint of his old grief.

"Hug?"

Lucifer hadn't even finished asking the whispered word before he was pulled into the embrace. "Of course, little one. _Always_ ," Michael murmured into his ear. "Promise me you'll never do that again, Lucifer. I wouldn't be able to live with it."

"I don't plan on it," Lucifer assured him. "And for the record, I wouldn't be able to live with it either… How'd you figure it out?"

"It doesn't matter," Michael replied. "Do you want to go inside?"

Lucifer shook his head, tightening his arms around Michael. "Not yet… not yet."

It was only by the shadows of the past that they were here in the present, and by the bright illusions of tomorrow, would they able to move forward. For the longest time, Lucifer thought he'd been living in a shadow. That wasn't true. He was living in the light of his brother.

* * *

_"When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Do you see the real you, or what you have been conditioned to believe is you? The two are so, so different. One is an infinite consciousness capable of being and creating whatever it chooses; the other is an illusion imprisoned by its own perceived and programmed limitations."_

—David Icke


End file.
